


under the skin

by Anonymous



Category: Vinland Saga (Manga)
Genre: (discussed), Bickering, Brother/Brother Incest, Bruise Play, M/M, Minor Injuries, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:21:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22502428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Torgrim and Atli discuss a few things after a victory in battle.
Relationships: Atli/Torgrim (Vinland Saga)
Kudos: 1
Collections: Anonymous





	under the skin

**Author's Note:**

> @ vincestsaga on twitter for more brocontent ✌️

"Leave it alone," Atli tells him, pushing his hand back. "This is stupid."

"Stupid is right." Torgrim forces his hand past his brother's protests and watches him flinch as the cold, wet rag makes contact with the wound. He looks out of place among the wounded, sitting here stripped out of his pants—again, over his protests—with just the one short red stripe on his inner thigh.

"And how about you? I can see that bruise peeking out your sleeve, you know."

"From covering for you!" Torgrim dunks the rag again and goes up and down the whole thigh. The blood's mostly dried by now. Some of it forced out just from walking here, but it all looks the same, dried together.

Atli huffs and looks away. He knows he fucked up but he's too embarrassed to own up to it. Like a kid who got caught skipping chores. The pain can't be helping any, but Torgrim gives the wound another slow swipe, untroubled by sympathy. He never learns, this one, if you go easy on him.

"It's not deep or anything."

"Doesn't have to be deep to get infected." Torgrim sets the rag down and reaches for the salve. "Locals are probably rotten with disease."

"Don't put their rotten water and ointment all over me, then."

"I'm the one putting it on you," Torgrim says firmly, "and I'm clean."

He winces again when the salve goes on. The padding did its job, and the wound is a shallow one. He'll need a new set, of course, now it's been cut through. But there's no way to buy new legs. Or new little brothers, for that matter.

"Dropping your own sword." It's the fourth time Torgrim's said it.

"Oh, give it a rest. It slipped, that's all. Once in ten years."

"Once is too many. Trying to do something cool, were you? Spinning it around in your hand?"

"That's me. Always doing stupid shit. Always holding you back." He's slipping into a full sulk. "Why not just send me home if I'm such a burden."

The sulk's always his last line of defense, and Torgrim pushes through it resolutely. "Maybe you're the one who could use a set of chain mail, if you're planning to keep at this." He tugs at the last strip of bandage, then bites the very end off to keep it from peeling off all diagonal.

"If you're just in a snit," Atli hisses at him, barely keeping his voice low enough, "because it means you can't get in there and—"

Torgrim pulls his sleeve back. It's a dramatic move that he's been practicing mentally, and he's proud of how it comes out, but the bruises blooming all up and down his arm really did hurt like hell. "I picked all these up while you were fumbling around picking your sword up. And I might've got worse. This whole thing falls apart if I can't count on you back there." Atli's fallen silent, looking at him. "Don't forget, when you hurt yourself, you're hurting me. If you won't take care of yourself, then—"

But Atli's shaking his head now. "Oh, no, don't make me listen to those lines, they're more painful than the leg." He gives Torgrim's knee a shove, a grin starting to show. "Fine. I'm sorry, all right? My fault. I'll be more careful."

"You promise?"

"In Odin's name. Urgh, your poor arm. I'm sorry."

"Nothing serious." He had more lines planned, but he can save them for another day. Or for bed. There was some real poetry in there. "Besides, these we can have some fun with."

Atli frowns at him. "Fun? Fun how?"

"You know. Pressing on 'em and such."

His eyebrows lift now. "Pressing?"

Torgrim holds his arm up and Atli pushes uncertainly on one of the bruises. A nice careful pressure, the sort you'd put on yourself just to be certain of the dull bite you're expecting. A tooth under the skin reminding you that even chain mail has its limits.

Atli withdraws his arm and Torgrim motions for a response with his unbruised one. "Well?"

"That's it?" Atli's looking at him warily, as if he's the injured one.

"What do you want me to do, cum right here? Yeah, that's it. Just a little bit of fun."

"'S'a little bit fucked up."

"There's plenty of people who like it."

"Not Norsemen, surely. Norsemen go for..." Atli hesitates, trying to come up with the manliest possible ways to fuck. "Ravishment, biting, spanking. You know."

"What do I look like, a Frank?"

"But it's blood under there, that's what they are. You want me to go pushing your blood around?"

It occurs to Torgrim they still need to be looking busy, and he reaches for another layer of bandage and starts pretending to measure it. "Hell of a time to be getting squeamish about blood and bruises. Or about getting rough with me."

"I'm never thinking about hurting you just to... to hurt you." Atli touches his hand for a second, genuinely agitated. "It's just about the closeness. You haven't been doing this every time I go too hard, have you? Pushing on them?"

He never needs to be talked into leaving marks, but come to think of it, it did take some work to get him here. They were younger back then and he was a quick learner, but Torgrim had to walk him pretty carefully through the idea that there's more to a good hard fuck than little kitten bites. Call it an innocence, or call it a flaw of character, but it's always the simplest things in the world that make his brother struggle like this. They just don't occur to him. 

Torgrim prefers to think of it as one of the tasks set to him as an older brother. Atli keeps in step most of the time. If he drops behind now and then, it's only natural. The important thing's getting him back on track. Gently.

"Stupid," he says. "When have I ever asked you to go soft?"

"I didn't know you were thinking about it like this. I don't _nurse_ the ones you leave on me." 

"Atli." Torgrim's starting to get frustrated. His little brother's having a slow day, and men in their line of work don't get to have slow days. " _Kids_ pick their scabs and poke their bruises. I can take plenty more than a kid."

"Of course I'll do it if you really want," Atli snaps, equally frustrated. "I just think it's kind of fucked up and odd. You're sure it doesn't mess things up inside you, pushing the blood around?"

"I'm telling you, every kid does it. I'm not taking it up as a hobby or anything, it just seems convenient. Since you won't be letting this happen again, or anything."

"Yeah." He's contrite again. "Of course not."

"Yeah?" Torgrim touches his arm gently, showing him it's all in the past. "We can do whatever you like tonight, then. Above the waistline."

Atli casts a look around. Still some pretty loud screams going on in the background. "Think we'll be out of here by tonight?"

"Next night, then. Or whenever we're free next."

"Bruises might be healed by the time we've got a night to ourselves," Atli says right into his ear, as Torgrim bends down to check the bandage is attached properly.

"Make some new ones, then." Torgrim brushes the very inside of his brother's thigh, just where it connects to his hip. It is nice getting to look at these by daylight, he has to admit that. "Maybe I'll have something new to kiss, if yours is healed up too."

"Oh, you fucker." Atli yanks his tunic down further to hide his sudden partial erection. The fabric just barely covers it up and he looks around nervously to see if anyone's watching.

"Don't stick your sword anywhere you don't want me grabbing." Torgrim doesn't bother looking. Everyone's busy treating the seriously injured, or being seriously injured. The two of them don't get serious injuries. Thus, they have the world to themselves at the moment. "I bet it won't even scar. Serves you right if it does, though."

"I told you, the whole thing was an accident." Atli checks the bandage on his thigh, very interested suddenly in his own health. Serves him _right_. "You can't do this to a wounded man." 

"It's not a heavy bleeder. Don't get flustered, that's what'll make people look."

"You don't know a thing about bedside manner," Atli whispers fiercely, starting to laugh despite himself. There's no spotting on his leg. Torgrim does know his way around a bandage. "I don't think you're a real doctor at all."

"Well, I'm what you get, if you get yourself hurt," Torgrim tells him. "So be careful with those beautiful legs."

"Shut up," Atli says, his eyes flashing around them once again. "Of course I will. I've got you to look after, haven't I? Get out of here, you quack, they've been calling you for ages."

There'll be a few more corpses to haul away before the day's out, most likely. No one from the band that he saw, so no one'll complain about Torgrim taking the time to fuss over his brother. Everyone knows how they are in battle. There's plenty else they don't know, but what they don't know won't hurt them. Any proper Norseman does his duty towards family first.


End file.
